The Plains near Roan. | |
| |
Enter CHARLES, the BASTARD OF ORLEANS, ALENÇON, JOAN LA PUCELLE, and Forces. | |
| Joan. Dismay not, princes, at this accident, | |
| Nor grieve that Roan is so recovered: | 4 |
| Care is no cure, but rather corrosive, | |
| For things that are not to be remedied. | |
| Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while, | |
| And like a peacock sweep along his tail; | 8 |
| We’ll pull his plumes and take away his train, | |
| If Dauphin and the rest will be but rul’d. | |
| Char. We have been guided by thee hitherto, | |
| And of thy cunning had no diffidence: | 12 |
| One sudden foil shall never breed distrust. | |
| Bast. Search out thy wit for secret policies, | |
| And we will make thee famous through the world. | |
| Alen. We’ll set thy statue in some holy place | 16 |
| And have thee reverenc’d like a blessed saint: | |
| Employ thee, then, sweet virgin, for our good. | |
| Joan. Then thus it must be; this doth Joan devise: | |
| By fair persuasions, mix’d with sugar’d words, | 20 |
| We will entice the Duke of Burgundy | |
| To leave the Talbot and to follow us. | |
| Char. Ay, marry, sweeting, if we could do that, | |
| France were no place for Henry’s warriors; | 24 |
| Nor should that nation boast it so with us, | |
| But be extirped from our provinces. | |
| Alen. For ever should they be expuls’d from France, | |
| And not have title of an earldom here. | 28 |
| Joan. Your honours shall perceive how I will work | |
| To bring this matter to the wished end. [Drums heard afar off. | |
| Hark! by the sound of drum you may perceive | |
| Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward. | 32 |
| |
Here sound an English march. Enter, and pass over, TALBOT and his Forces. | |
| There goes the Talbot, with his colours spread, | |
| And all the troops of English after him. | |
| |
A French march. Enter the DUKE OF BURGUNDY and his Forces. | 36 |
| Now in the rearward comes the duke and his: | |
| Fortune in favour makes him lag behind. | |
| Summon a parley; we will talk with him. [A parley. | |
| Char. A parley with the Duke of Burgundy! | 40 |
| Bur. Who craves a parley with the Burgundy? | |
| Joan. The princely Charles of France, thy countryman. | |
| Bur. What sayst thou, Charles? for I am marching hence. | |
| Char. Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him with thy words. | 44 |
| Joan. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France! | |
| Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee. | |
| Bur. Speak on; but be not over-tedious. | |
| Joan. Look on thy country, look on fertile France, | 48 |
| And see the cities and the towns defac’d | |
| By wasting ruin of the cruel foe. | |
| As looks the mother on her lowly babe | |
| When death doth close his tender dying eyes, | 52 |
| See, see the pining malady of France; | |
| Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds, | |
| Which thou thyself hast giv’n her woeful breast. | |
| O! turn thy edged sword another way; | 56 |
| Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that help. | |
| One drop of blood drawn from thy country’s bosom, | |
| Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign gore: | |
| Return thee therefore, with a flood of tears, | 60 |
| And wash away thy country’s stained spots. | |
| Bur. Either she hath bewitch’d me with her words, | |
| Or nature makes me suddenly relent. | |
| Joan. Besides, all French and France exclaims on thee, | 64 |
| Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny. | |
| Who join’st thou with but with a lordly nation | |
| That will not trust thee but for profit’s sake? | |
| When Talbot hath set footing once in France, | 68 |
| And fashion’d thee that instrument of ill, | |
| Who then but English Henry will be lord, | |
| And thou be thrust out like a fugitive? | |
| Call we to mind, and mark but this for proof, | 72 |
| Was not the Duke of Orleans thy foe, | |
| And was he not in England prisoner? | |
| But when they heard he was thine enemy, | |
| They set him free, without his ransom paid, | 76 |
| In spite of Burgundy and all his friends. | |
| See then, thou fight’st against thy countrymen! | |
| And join’st with them will be thy slaughtermen. | |
| Come, come, return; return thou wand’ring lord; | 80 |
| Charles and the rest will take thee in their arms. | |
| Bur. I am vanquished; these haughty words of hers | |
| Have batter’d me like roaring cannon-shot, | |
| And made me almost yield upon my knees. | 84 |
| Forgive me, country, and sweet countrymen! | |
| And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace: | |
| My forces and my power of men are yours. | |
| So, farewell, Talbot; I’ll no longer trust thee. | 88 |
| Joan. Done like a Frenchman: turn, and turn again! | |
| Char. Welcome, brave duke! thy friendship makes us fresh. | |
| Bast. And doth beget new courage in our breasts. | |
| Alen. Pucelle hath bravely play’d her part in this, | 92 |
| And doth deserve a coronet of gold. | |
| Char. Now let us on, my lords, and join our powers: | |
| And seek how we may prejudice the foe. [Exeunt. | |
